Poetic Stirrings & A Haiku

It just occurred to me that there are only two months until National Poetry Writing Month begins on April 1st. This is something that I look forward to each year, because there is just something so fun about the challenge of following the prompts each day to stretch your stylistic abilities. Yes, it is indeed possible to nerd out over poetry!

I went to their site today to see if the annual participation banner had been released yet. It hasn’t, which is not surprising, given that it isn’t even February yet. While I await April 1st, I’ll just keep posting whatever pops up. For today, it’s another Haiku. Bet you aren’t surprised! >:)

Coffee

Aromatic beans

Awakening the senses

Rich, dark, warm pleasure.

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NaPoWriMo – Day 30

Wow, I can’t believe that the month is over already! National Poetry Writing Month goes by so quickly every year. Since so many of the latter part of the month’s poems have been haiku form, why not end end it with a haiku?

Fireflies light the night

Glowing specks of pixie dust

Proof that magic’s real

#NaPoWriMo – Day 29

After a one day break from haiku, I’ve decided to come back to it. Addictive stuff. As I sat at my desk at around 4:45 am trying to come up with something profound about sleep not yet having arrived as the stars faded, a visitor drifted down over my laptop on its gossamer web changing the course of today’s poem. And now, as the clock clicks to 5am, this little creator heads off to dreamland.

Insomniac Writer’s Bedtime

White spider dangles

In front of my weary eyes

As night turns to day

 

 

#NaPoWriMo – Day 28

Wow, this month has gone fast. Only two more days and National Poetry Month will be over. Today’s prompt at NaPoWriMo is to write a poem that tells a story backwards.

Finally Free

Today her wings finally unfolded, allowing her to soar

She finally learned to trust in herself and what she knew to be true

Remained open and caring, all the while growing wiser

Her heart-even when wounded almost to the point of shattering

Little by little her eyes opened to the fact that often she was the one they turned to

She believed them for a while, and continued to question and punish herself for decades

When they told her that the things that she saw and knew were all in her imagination

Or worse yet- when they told her that her intuition and ability to “see” were evil

Even though the doctors all said that it it wasn’t

They would tell her that her pain was all in her head-or that she was weak

Making her feel less than, somehow inferior for many reasons

Telling her to suck it up and comparing her to themselves incessantly

How people could be so cruel and heartless, calling her weird

Wondering why she had to be so different from everyone else

She dwelled for so long in darkness and uncertainty